


Shattered Soul

by AiyokuSama



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiyokuSama/pseuds/AiyokuSama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duo is captured, and everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote over a decade ago under the pen name Lady Aiyoku. I was surprised to find it still floating around on the web and decided to repost it here.

It was supposed to have been a simple scouting mission, completely routine. No one was supposed to have been in that sector of space. And Duo had been looking forward to what would amount to a joy ride in his beloved gundam.

But noooo...something just had to come up.

And in this case something, or rather several somethings, came roaring in on him. Before he realized what was happening a dozen enemy Taurus Mobile Suits had surrounded him.

Fsht, fsht, fsht. The lasers rained down on him. Inside the Deathscythe’s cockpit Duo bounced hard against the controls, as his gundam was battered ceaselessly. Klaxons began to sound as the systems went red. He was in trouble now!

But his attackers weren’t trying to destroy him. Instead they seemed to be going out of their way to prevent inflicting any fatal damage. His mind worked quickly. They want a prisoner then, a small rational corner of his mind calculated. Frantically he worked the controls, trying to get the great machine clear of his adversaries. After all running away had kept him in one piece before. He wasn’t psychotic like Heero. He saw nothing honourable about going down fighting.

And running away would have been a good plan...except for one thing. No matter what he did the mobile dolls stayed with him. His heart leapt into his throat as he realized that there was no way out. Not this time. Looking about desperately all he could see were the enemy. They were everywhere. The vast emptiness of space had become decidedly crowded.

Blam. Some kind of a large projectile hit him. There was an explosion behind him, the force of which threw Duo foward. The restraints snapped and his chin smashed painfully against the console. Soon all he could see were stars that had nothing to do with what lay in the depths of space. Then those sparks of light began to give way to darkness.

Fighting against the approaching unconsciousness he struggled to make his body work. Groping blindly he felt for the little trigger that he never thought he would have to use. He may not be may not be as reckless as Heero, but he wasn’t going to be caught either. He knew what happened to OZ captives. The lucky ones were executed immediately.

No. He wasn’t suicidal. But if he was going to die then he was determined that his death would be a useful one. The very least he could do was try to take as many of these hiretsukun with him as possible.

Sucking in a last, ragged breath he depressed the self-destruct button.

Nothing happened.

Eh?

He pressed the button again, desperation taking over.

Still nothing happened.

His gundam bucked beneath him as another shot landed on the much battered armoured surface. A second explosion rocked the cockpit, sending him careening into the side panel. His head hit against a sharp ledge painfully. Something warm began to run down the side of his face. He tried to think of something, tried to do something...but it was hard.

And he was so tired.

The darkness came for him then. His exhausted body gave up the fight and slumped over the console. The last thing he remembered was fervently praying that death would take him before he woke.

 

###

 

"Aaaaiiiyeee!" Duo jerked awake with a start. His stomach heaved at the sudden movement. Clapping a hand over his mouth he did his best to quell his traitorous innards. Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of his throat he lay back down. There was nothing for him to see. Wherever he was it was pitch black.

They’ve got me, he realized. He hadn’t died. He had been captured. His heart sank with the realization. It would start soon...the interrogation that was. And if he couldn’t contrive a way to escape–or kill himself–then he would be forced to divulge what he knew. And the others would be in danger. It won’t happen, he affirmed to himself.

Somehow...somehow it would work out.

Slowly he brought himself back up into a sitting position. With his hands he could feel the coarse blanket that was beneath him. Ripping off the material he felt around for anything that might be useful. Under that was a cold, hard metal cot that was welded to the wall. There were no convenient springs or ropes. Sighing to himself he had to admit that he really hadn’t been expecting anything else.

Leaving the rumpled bedding behind he gingerly swung his battered legs down to the floor. But when he tried to stand he nearly passed out and his stomach rose again. A concussion then. He suspected that was the least of the damage he suffered and lowered himself back to the cot. With careful fingers he began to explore his body, seeking the worst of the damage. Amazingly enough though all he could find were minor cuts and lots of bruises. The concussion was the worst of it after all.

Well that was something of a relief. A concussion he could handle, he hoped. If anything had been broken that would have made things very difficult indeed.

But, having identified the problem he still had to "see" if there was anything useful in his cell. However walking was not an option. Instead he settled for crawling about on his hands and knees, his nimble fingers make note of very crack they encountered. The floor was a smooth metal like the cot. And when he came to the wall he repeated the procedure carefully. But asides from regular lines where one section of the wall ended and another began, there was nothing. No window, no wall sockets, noting at all. His heart sank again. There had to be something he could use!

The ventilation! There had to be some way air was getting into his cell or he would have asphyxiated long ago. And if there was ventilation, then there was possibility a way out. His spirits rose a little, only be dashed again by the realization that whatever ventilation there may be was beyond his reach. He wouldn’t know were it was until his captures decided to turn the lights on...if the cell had lights.

Or...he could wait until they tried to move him. Then he might have a chance to make a break for it. He smiled grimly to himself. He wasn’t out of options yet.

Running his hands over the wall before him he located where the door was then walked, or rather crawled, over to the apposite wall. There he wedged himself against the steel and prepared to wait. Facing the door he determined that no one would surprise him.

The wait wasn’t a long one. He wondered if they were monitoring the room or if it was just luck that someone opened the door. At the same time a bright over head light was switched on and he was blinded. Raising his right arm he tried vainly to shield his eyes from the glare. He heard rather then saw the door snap shut.

Foot steps. The person was moving briskly towards him. Before he could register anything more then the person’s proximity a large palm struck his left, unprotected cheek with enough force to snap his head around as his up raised arm dropped to his side. Stoically Duo took the blow. With deliberate slowness he turned he face back towards the person and an insolent smirk spread across his face.

The glare from the light was subsiding as his eyes adjusted. He saw that the person before him was a large man in an OZ uniform. No surprise there. But what nearly had Duo cracking up with laughter was the particular shade of red the man’s face had gone when faced with a smiling captive. Hmmm, this one would be easy to piss off. That could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how he wanted to play it.

A fist cracked down on the top of his cheek bone. Stunned, Duo sprawled on the floor, his arm trapped beneath him. When his mind started working again the first thing he thought of was, Okay. Pissing him off is a bad idea!

At some point he realized that the man was shouting at him. He tried to focus on the words. He thought the man was wanting to know his name but he couldn’t be sure. The world wasn’t making a whole lot of sense at the moment.

Reflexively he shook his head, trying to clear it. Big mistake. His gore rose threateningly. He leaned forward and opened his mouth. The contents of his stomach emptied on the floor at the man’s feet. The OZ soldier, jumped back slightly and made a disgusted sound. While Duo struggled to recover and sit up once more the man moved around the mess that had been made and grabbed the young pilot by the front of his jacket.

"Who are you? What is your name?" The man demanded. Glazed eyes focused on him. A gurgling sound could be heard coming from the boy as he struggled futilely in the man’s grip.

"Max-well," the boy wheezed past the chocking grasp the man had on him.

The man in the uniform smiled. It was a sickening, twisted expression that made Duo’s stomach churn. "Maxwell...what?"

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to give the bastard anything else. And the way the man’s grip as tightening the young pilot would pass out soon. He certainly couldn’t answer questions when he was unconscious. Wheezing he did his best to summon another smirk.

The man seemed to realize what was happening and let go of the boy, throwing him against the wall to the side. Duo collided painfully against the metal then slid down into a boneless heap on the floor. All he could see was stars, his eyes refusing to cooperate. Heavy foot falls were the only warning he had, then a booted foot impacted against the front his exposed ribs.

"Maxwell...What?!" The man’s voice grated against the air itself. His displeasure a palpable thing.

Even if he’d wanted to answer–-which he didn’t-–he couldn’t have said anything. Clutching his abused side the boy was racked with coughing spasms. The pain that lanced through his body was intense but not the sort that accompanied a broken bone or three...yet.

A hand wadded itself into his jacket and jerked him upright. This time the man’s grip wasn’t cutting off his air but he wasn’t in any condition to take advantage of the fact.

The man’s face was very close to his own. When the man spoke again it was with venom in his voice. "We have your gundam. We know you’re one of the terrorists. Who are the others? Four others. Who are they?!"

"Nn." Duo wouldn't let himself say anything. In the last few seconds he had come to the realization that he wasn’t going to survive this. That was fine. He just hoped the man would make it quick.

Again the man threw him across the room. This time he landed just short of the cot attached to the wall. His bruised side scraping painfully against the smooth surface. It was to much. He just wanted to lay there. It hurt to think, let alone trying to move. Please...let it end soon.

He wouldn’t be so lucky.

The other came up behind him and manhandled him onto the cot so that his stomach was pressed against the rumpled blanket. Eyes widening he tried to struggle out of the others grasp. Wildly he tried to swing his arm behind him, anything to fend off his aggressor. A sour, amused noise could be heard from the man as he grabbed Duo’s arm. There was nothing for it. He had to fight! He couldn’t let this happen!

But as he struggled the man firmed his grip on the boy’s wrist. When Duo came close to connecting with a desperate kick of his leg the man pulled...Duo screamed as a sickening pop sound reverberated through the tiny cell. The agony of his newly dislocated shoulder took way any further need to fight. Limp and sobbing into the coarse blanket he felt the man callously pulled down Duo's black jods. Followed by the sound of a zipper being opened. But there was nothing he could do.

Heero...I’m sorry. I failed.

The man’s rough hands worked on his butt cheeks, opening them. The sound of Duo’s anguished shriek accompanied the man’s gratified grunt as his pushed brutally into the boy’s tight body.

Too much...it was just too much. Duo was grateful as the dark clutches of unconsciousness claimed him.

###

Duo came back to himself sometime later. He hurt!

The lights were off again and he welcomed the darkness. He was still half draped over the cot. Getting his one good hand beneath him he tried to push himself upright. The motion sent a spasm of pain lancing through his shoulder. An insistent reminder that he was in real trouble.

He thought back to the rudimentary first aid course that had been part of his training. When a shoulder was dislocated, the instructor at intoned, circulation was cut off as the blood vessels were strangled. If the shoulder wasn’t put back into place quickly that arm would starve for lack of blood. When that happened the only thing left to do was to amputate the useless appendage.

Since Duo wasn’t fond of that notion he decided to remedy the situation. With his feet under him once more he blindly reached out his good hand and felt for the wall. Finding it he carefully inched his way around the cot, managing to bang his shins only once. But the discomfort of that minor abuse paled in comparison to the rest. Warily he moved over to the wall and lay his back against it.

Taking a deep breath he gritted his teeth. Pulling a few inches away from the wall he rotated his bad shoulder forward. Then before he could lose his nerve he smashed it back against the metal siding.

Crack!

Duo screamed as his shoulder popped back into the socket. Before had been little more then a dull throb, now the area was laced with white hot agony. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor sobbing.

After an indeterminate amount of time he remembered to breathe. With slow movements he made his way back over to the cot. Gingerly he pulled himself onto the ledge and proceeded to pull his pants back on, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. Dragging the scratchy blanket over him he huddled there. With his mind no longer occupied he forgot about the pain of his shoulder as his mind replayed events for him in the most exacting detail. He was shaking with realization of what just happened.

A keening wail escaped his throat.

Weak! He had been so weak! How could he have let it happen? How?!

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

If only...

He didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he awoke again. Not that it really mattered. Nothing mattered any more.

The door to his cell opened. The shadow of a large individual blocked out the light. His eyes becoming very large, Duo pushed himself against the wall trying to become as small as possible.

The over head lights were flipped on but this time he was ready for it and had his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see who was there anyhow.

There was a clang of metal on metal as the door snapped shut. A noise that was to harsh to be called a chuckle carried towards him.

"Shall we try again?"

It’s him! No. Please no!

Foot steps rang against the floor. "Who are the other rebel pilots?" The voice sounded almost reasonable. Almost.

Keeping his lips tightly sealed Duo waited. There was nothing more for him to do.

His eyes still tightly closed he jerked reflexively as a calloused hand cupped his chin and cheek. The hand closed on him uncomfortably and his head was forced backwards knocking into the wall painfully.

"Look at me, Slut!"

When he didn’t open his eyes, his head was banged against the wall a second time. To spare himself Duo did open his eyes. The hunger and the fury he saw in the other man's rough, square jawed face made him want to sink into the floor.

Please no! He wailed to himself silently.

The man must have seen the fear in his eyes since his leering sneer widened hideously. Those hard brown eyes seemed to devour him. He was pinned beneath that gaze.

"Tell me who your friends are, Slut!"

Duo whimpered in the back of his throat but said nothing. No matter what he had to suffer he would spare them! He swore this to himself even as the man’s foul breath washed over him.

Don’t give up, a small part of his mind raged. You are not helpless. You are Shinigami!

Taking heart in those words the boy did the unthinkable...he lashed out at his attacker. Punching with his good arm he connected with the others solar plexus. Moving desperately he forced his foot into the man's stomach, trying to push him further away. The man staggered back! His heart leapt into his throat as he dared to hope...

Those fugitive hopes were dashed when the man came roaring back towards him. One blow...two...three...four...Duo lost count as the man beat him, screaming obscenities. There was nothing for it, the punches and kicks kept coming. But he was beyond caring.

Let him kill me. Please...I want only death now...

But Death wasn’t listening.

Eventually the man lost hold of his rage and the blows ceased. Large hands picked him up by the collar of his jacket, pulling him upright with his feet dangling off the ground. "Who are the other four pilots?!" Without waiting for answer he threw the limp boy against the metal cot.

Claw-like hands ripped his jods from him and a vice grip clamped down on his soft member. Duo whimpered as the man’s hold tightened.

"You know," the man said conversationally as he harshly fondled the boy, "I hope you don’t tell me who your friends are. If you did, I would have to stop. And I don’t want to stop."

The man forced the boy’s face into the coarse blanket on the bed so that his now naked butt was left hanging in the air. Duo hadn’t even realized the man had unzipped his pants. Without warning the man rammed his large member into Duo’s tight little hole. The animalistic scream that tore free of the boy’s throat said it all. But as the man pumped viciously in and out of him, the screams subsided to pathetic mewls of distress as the boy lost what little energy had been left to him.

When the man was done, he pulled the boy up and forced Duo to his knees on the cold metal floor. The young pilot’s head lolled on his shoulders and a cruel hand grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back so that he had no choice but to look at what was in front of him. It was the man, he was standing there with his legs spread slightly, his pants' still unzipped.

Duo was dismayed to see that the man’s length was still ridgid with blood. He realized then that the man hadn’t ejaculated into him.

"Suck it!"

The hand laced through his hair forced him forward. When he tried to keep his mouth closed the grip tightened and he could feel the hair being torn out by the roots. Gasping he had no choice but to take the man’s length into his mouth. For a split second he thought of just biting down, of maiming the bastard.

The other might have heard his thoughts because his head was pulled back so that he had to look at that cruel face. "Don’t. Don’t even think about it, boy! Or I’ll show you what real pain is!"

Numbly Duo nodded slightly, as much as the hold on his hair would allow at any rate. It seemed to satisfy the man who pushed the boy’s face back against his length. Cautiously he opened his mouth and the young pilot accepted the organ into his being. With guarded action he carefully shielded his teeth with his lips. Slowly he began to suck even as his stomach churned with revulsion.

The man decided that it wasn’t enough and began pumping against the boy’s head. The tip of the man’s length rammed savagely against the back of his throat and Duo gagged. A heavy hand swatted him upside the head as the man growled at him. Doing the best he could the young pilot tried to ignore what was happening.

The man would use him. But that didn’t mean Duo had to be there. At least his mind didn’t. Gradually he was able to let his mind drift elsewhere...to a place where the pain and humiliation was but a distant memory. Yet even as he achieved a kind of peace within himself he was rudely called back to the real world.

The man’s seed was spurting into his mouth. The thick, slightly bitter liquid made him gag again and he tried ineffectively to open his mouth so that he could purge himself of the man’s essence.

It was the grip on his braid that stopped him. And the man was growling at him again. "Swallow it boy! Drink it all!"

Holding back tears, Duo did as he was told, trying desperately not to taste what he was swallowing. With convulsive gulps he completed the task. The man, his member now soft, pulled away though he didn’t release his hold of the boy’s chestnut hair. Duo wasn’t looking at anything in particular, his eyes cast down to the floor, so he didn’t see the satisfaction on the man’s face though he could well imagine it.

He wasn’t really surprised when the man threw him to the side. He landed with a dull thud against the metal floor and didn’t move. His mind wouldn’t accept what was happening.

Weak, he railed at himself. You’re so fucking weak!

Vaguely he was aware of the man doing up his pants. He seemed to have lost interest in his play thing. At some point the door opened as a second voice could be heard. "It’s time. The telecast will be in ten minutes. Bring the boy." A pause. Then, almost as an after thought, "is he dead?"

Foot steps. Then a booted toe was prodding his bruised ribs. Despite himself he moaned hoarsely in the back of his throat. "Not yet," the man replied. The two pairs of hands were pulling him upright. His eyes lapsed closed as he was held on his feet while his pants were refastened about his waist. Duo was beyond caring. He barely even noticed when they began dragging him out of the cell.

Please, he pleaded silently with the universe. Please...let me die!


	2. Rescue

Heero couldn’t understand it. The American should have turned up at the safe house long ago. After all, the mission had been a very simple on. Just a supply run. Nothing complicated about that. And yet there he sat wondering what had happened to Shinigami and it’s pilot. He gazed at the computer screen as though by doing so he could call up a message from Duo. But nothing ever came.

With an irritated snarl he pushed the chair back so that he could stand. Clasping his hands above his head he stretched lithely. A couple of vertebrae popped noisily in the silence of the dingy little apartment.

Glancing at the battered clock on the wall he noticed that it was almost 21:00. His stomach chose that moment to forcibly remind him that breakfast had been a very long time ago. He looked back at the laptop screen but nothing had changed. And just sitting there wasn’t accomplishing anything.

He strode with purpose away from the little desk and took himself into the pocket sized kitchenette the apartment sported. Absently he switched on the TV as he passed. A news cast hummed ideally in the background as he began rummaging through the fridge.

The search for dinner was interrupted by an ear piercing squeal that was being emitted by the television. Startled, Heero looked up. When he scrutinized the TV he saw the OZ insignia flash across the screen. The symbol then disappeared to be replaced by the head and shoulders of a uniformed Captain. The man’s dour face was impassive as he sat behind a desk. Though he was attired in the standard officer’s uniform someone had gone to great lengths to make him appear trustworthy. However, Heero’s skin began to crawl at the mere sight of him.

The camera shot zoomed out. Behind and to the left of the desk were two common soldiers standing with their arms crossed. Between them was a metal straight backed chair. And in the chair...Heero’s stomach grew cold. There, in the badly ripped remains of his black priest’s outfit, was Duo. The boy sported a pair of large and cumbersome manacles though they clearly weren’t necessary. The American pilot’s head rested limply against his chest.

"Yesterday a handful of brave OZ soldiers brought down one of the outlaw gundams," the Captain droned as he waved towards the chair and it’s occupant. One of the soldiers grabbed the boy’s hair and brutally pulled back so that the camera could clearly see his battered face.

Heero didn’t even notice what the Captain was saying. Instead he was focused on those pain fogged eyes. The once clear blue orbs now glazed over, and he wondered if the Deathscythe pilot was even conscious. The boy’s face sported multiple livid bruises. It made him wonder what the tattered black fabric hid.

"Duo no baka," Heero mumbled to himself. Something must have gone dreadfully wrong for the young pilot to have been captured. And if he was in an OZ prison they were all in great danger! He would have to do something and quickly. Looking at the boy’s defeated expression he made his decision. "Omae o korosu."

 

###

 

It took him almost another two days of constant computer hacking to figure out where the American was being held. But now that he had a target he could act. The plan was simple: get in and silence the leak. He wasn’t going to worry about anything else.

At the moment the Japanese pilot was straddling the saddle of a motorcycle he had appropriated for the sole purpose of getting him to the OZ facility. Through a pair of binoculars he studied the compound. There was one main building that stood twelve stories high. Three smaller building stood off to the right. And a lone structure held dominance over the western horizon. He knew from the building plans he had studied that the easiest way was across the open lawn.

Though it was exposed and guarded it was the only option. The storm drains were rigged securely. He wouldn’t be able to get through them without wasting a lot of valuable time disarming the security system. K’so. Whatever. He would just have to be careful.

Propping up the bike he began to carefully camouflage it, more out of habit then of any intention of coming back to reclaim it. He didn’t have any illusions. Getting in would be hard enough...

Fortunately dusk was almost upon him. The guard should be changing shortly. He would just have to get in position and wait. Moving stealthily through the thin undergrowth beneath the trees, he passed behind a slight rise. Carefully checking to be sure that none observed him, the Wing pilot shimmed up the trunk of a likely tree. Positioning himself along one of the sturdy limes he lay on his stomach, watching all that was below him.

This particular tree was right next to the fence that ran the perimeter of the compound. From his position he could see the guards that patrolled the grounds. One passed no more then twenty feet from him. Heero held his breath. The guard passed by without ever realizing that he was being observed.

The boy looked at his watch. Almost time. His eyes flashed back to the guard. Sure enough the man was going into an out building...the guard post perhaps.

Now!

Getting his feet beneath him Heero nimbly ran along the tree limb. When it began to bow under his slight weight he coiled his legs and sprang, launching himself over the razor wire of the fence. Curling up protectively he struck the ground with his shoulder. Relaxing into the motion he let his momentum care him along. Coming up on his toes he catapulted himself into a head long dash. He didn’t have much time.

But instead of going for the main building as would have been expected, he instead dashed for the guard post. Plastering himself up against the rough surface of the thin siding he waited. Through the wall he could here voices inside the small building. Laughter. Then the door on the side of the building opened. The man who walked out was not the same one he had seen before. This was the new guard replacing the first. As the soldier walked away from the building Heero inched closer to the door. It was slowly swinging shut behind the man’s departure. The young pilot made no sound as he slipped through the doorway.

Inside the building the first guard was relaxing with a cup of coffee clutched between his hands. Silent as a cat, Heero walked up behind the man. When he was close enough his hands reached out...and in one fluid motion he snapped the man’s neck. The cup of coffee fell from the now limp hands, the hot liquid splashing against the matte flooring.

With brisk efficiency he began rifling through the dead man’s clothes. In one of the pants pockets his hand encountered something. Pulling the object free of the coarse fabric, he smiled with grim satisfaction. The card key he held was his ticket in. Carefully placing his prize on the console behind him he began to task of stripping the dead soldier. He was in luck. This one was only slightly taller then himself. The uniform would be a reasonable fit.

Pulling the pants and shirt over his customary green tank top and spandex shorts, he looked about the room for any kind of a weapon. When he was properly attired he stripped the area of anything useful, and what he found was to what already amounted to a small arsenal on his person.

There was just one more thing he had to do. Turning to the console he quickly typed in a few choice commands. Within a few seconds he had located the cell that contained the imprisoned boy. Card key in hand, he left the guard post, moving openly and with purpose. As long as he was in the OZ uniform and looked like he belonged there, it was unlikely anything would bother him.

Getting into the main building wasn’t a problem. Even better, the only person who saw him was a janitor. By passing the man he made his way to the elevator. The doors were already open and he stepped inside. Depressing the button for the 2nd sub-basement, the lowest level he could get to without needing special clearance that his stolen card key didn’t have, he waited for the doors close. As soon as they did, he pushed open the emergency hatch in the ceiling and climbed on top of the car. Closing the hatch behind him, he waited for the car to come to a stop.

Curling determined fingers about the cables holding the car, he shimmied upwards. When he came level with one of the small service panels he swung himself over that way. There was very little for him to hold onto, but somehow he managed as he worked the little mechanical hand drill, removing the screws that held the sheet of siding in place. Free of the screws he pushed the thing out, grabbing the edge before it could hit the floor beyond.

He found himself in a deserted service corridor. Closing his eyes he visualized where he was in relation to the blue prints of the compound that he had studied. Satisfied that he knew where he was, Heero opened his eyes and turned right.

As much as he could, he struck to the service corridors, avoiding any and all confrontations. Letting himself into the ventilation system the Wing pilot began making his way down to the 4th sub-basement. That was were he would find the boy.

When he came to the floor in question he paused, listening carefully for the sound of anyone in the hallway. But he heard nothing. Sneaking out of the ventilation shaft he lowered himself to the floor of the hallway. It was almost too good to be true. There was no one in sight.

On silent feet he raced through the hall. He had to find cell #66489.

66438...66453...66471...

There!

Oddly enough, there were no guards. That was both good and bad. Good that he wouldn’t have to deal with one or more enemies. Bad that there was no one there with an access card for him to appropriate.

Turning to face the cell door he saw that the locking mechanism to the side held a numbered touch pad. He would need a code...which he didn’t have. Bringing out his tiny screw driver once more he removed the touch pad’s panel. Nimble fingers began working on the wires hidden within. In moments he had the thing hot wired and the door to cell #66489 swung open before him.

He strode inside. As he stood a bare pace within the room, the overhead lights came on. A quick scan of the area showed little. He saw Duo huddle on the cell’s tiny cot. He had his knees tucked up under his chin and was rocking back and forth. Tiny mewling sounds could be heard from the boy. Even though the Shinigami pilot was looking right at him, it didn’t seem as though he actually saw Heero.

Slowly the Japanese boy pulled a hand gun from its hiding place in the waistband of the uniforms pants and levelled it at Duo, sighting between the others eyes.

###

The door had opened. Someone was standing there. Duo curled in tighter on himself. Slowly he began rocking back and forth, humming to himself. He was beyond caring which of the men had come for him this time. It was all the same.

His mind drifted to the safety of that tiny corner of his inner self. And there he would be til it was all over. They could have his body, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. But he did his best to protect his fragile psyche. He had to remember...he had to protect the others.

But they no longer even questioned him. None of the men spoke to him except to issue orders to further their gratification. Broken...I’m broken, he realized with despair.

"I can’t."

The two words were barely more then a whisper, but he heard them. Something about the voice snapped him back to himself. He knew that flat tone! Forcing his glazed eyes to focus he looked at the person who had entered his cell.

It’s a dream! This can’t be real!

But it was. There stood Heero in an OZ uniform, pointing a gun at him. Thank you, Heero. Death would finally claim him. But even as he thought that, he saw the gun slowly being lowered. The tormented expression on the Japanese boy’s face bespoke of an internal struggle. Duo could guess what was going through his head.

"It so’kay, Heero," he managed hoarsely. "Just pull the trigger. Then the pain will stop, ne." The last was spoken more to himself then to the erstwhile assassin.

Heero seemed to focus on those words. But instead of raising the gun and taking aim he quickly stuffed the pistol back into the holster. With a determined expression on his face he walked over to his battered comrade.

Something undefinable entered those cold cobalt blue eyes. Cautiously he placed an arm around the other pilot’s torso. "Can you stand?"

Bewildered Duo nodded. He tried to move off the cot but ended up placing most of his weight on the other boy. His legs began to buckle but Heero didn’t let him fall. With a slight grimace of triumph Duo took a careful step forward. Then another. With Heero’s help he was able to make it to the door of the cell. Together they began the trek down the hall.

Duo nearly stumbled when the other boy pulled up short, though it quickly became apparent why. Up ahead two voices could be heard. Two or more people were headed their way. Duo paled visibly. He knew those voices.

Moving quickly, much to Duo’s dismay, the Wing pilot lead him over to a small alcove set in the recesses of the wall. Heero then gave him The Look. Stay here or you’ll wish I had killed you. Well, Duo was in no shape to argue. Sliding heavily down the wall he curled up in a foetal position. The Wing pilot left him there and disappeared around the corner. There was a scuffling sound and a couple thumps. He thought he heard something heavy landing against the floor.

Then Heero was back. He dumped something on the floor before Duo. "You need to change," the short haired pilot stated. With that, he moved off slightly to take up a watchful position. Duo was surprised to say the least. Warily he picked up the wad of dark blue fabric. Moving as quickly as his battered body would allow, he got out of the ripped cloths he had been attired in and slip on the enemy uniform.

Heero cautiously looked over his shoulder and saw that the boy was ready. He still looked like death warmed over but no one would notice that at a distance. All they would see was the familiar uniform.

"Come on." Heero began heading off down the hall. Duo was left to move under his own steam. Surprisingly enough he managed it. He did his best to stick close to the other pilot. Fortunately his confederate was moving cautiously, checking everything before them.

Free...I’ll soon be free...

But just as the American thought that it started. Klaxon’s began to wail as red lights flashed along the corridor.

"K’so!" Heero swore. Grabbing Duo’s wrist he pulled the other into a stumbling run.

Shinigami’s pilot tried desperately to keep up but all to soon he was gasping desperately for air. It seemed as though he just couldn’t get enough into his lungs. "Hee-ro...I ...c..can’t," he gasped out at the other soldier. He tried to free himself from the others grip. But the Japanese boy wouldn’t let go. In fact his grip became tighter, almost painful. Duo fought the fear that threatened to choke him as he was dragged into a storage closet. In the darkened interior he was pushed against some shelving as his rescuer peeked cautiously through the crack of the door.

"Heero. Leave me. I’ll just slow you down," Duo said softly. "You can still get out if you do it alone."

"Getting out wasn’t part of the original plan," Heero hissed back. "Neither was breaking you out."

"Nani? What was the plan?"

"I’d kill you. I hadn’t bothered to worry about how I would get out."

"Idiot! You should have killed me in the first place!"

Heero turned around to look at the young man -no, boy- behind him illuminated by the dim light coming from the hallway. The fear and hopelessness in what should have been such a carefree expression did something to his insides. An odd twisting that he had never experience before. Inexplicably he had the sudden urge to gather the American to him and hold on, never letting go. Instead he reached out a hand and clasped a quivering shoulder. Those blue eyes were searching his own, almost as though they belonged to a lost child.

"We will get out of here...together." Heero gave the boy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he turned back to the hall. The sound of feet running could be heard. Soon a squad of soldiers rushed by. He over heard them saying something about protecting the enemy gundam. An idea began to form in his mind.

Sweeping his gaze about the storage room his eyes lighted on the wire mesh grid that covered an air vent. Without a word he worked his way over to it and quickly removed the grate. Holding out a hand to the other boy he hissed, "Come on!"

Without knowing why, Duo took the proffered hand and let Heero push him up into the ventilation shaft. A part of him remembered his original escape plans...before...He wouldn’t think about that. Not now. Right then he had to concentrate on staying alive.

With Heero behind him he moved forward as it was the only way open to him. After an indefinite amount of time Heero’s voice came to him. "Turn here." It was the first of many such instructions and he carefully followed all of them.

Finally they came to another grate. It wasn’t dark in the room beyond. It was, in fact, brightly lit. It looks like a computer lab, he thought absently. At some point Heero had worked his way up beside him. The short haired pilot was carefully surveying the area. But it was deserted. With a satisfied grunt he motioned for Duo to get back. He made short work of the barrier and slipped into the room beyond. Duo remained in the shaft as Heero prowled the area. But nothing was amiss. At Wing’s signal he lowered himself down. His legs refused to support him and he ended up in a crumpled heap. Was it his imagination or was that concern in Heero’s expression? He couldn’t be sure. The other boy looked away, focusing on the computer terminal before him.

As Duo picked himself up off the carpeting he watched as the Heero sat himself before the terminal. Deft fingers danced across the keys. "Whatchya doing," he wondered aloud as came up behind the Perfect Soldier.

"Making life miserable for OZ," was the cryptic response. But before Duo could ask what he meant the fingers stopped and Heero stood up. "Time to go." With that he pulled Duo along over to he only door out of the room.

They stepped out into an empty corridor. Heero set a brisk pace. Though he didn’t know where they were going, Duo kept his mouth shut. I’ll find out soon enough, he reasoned.

When the lights went out Duo’s heart leapt into his throat. But when the emergency lighting kicked in, he saw the satisfied not-quite-smile the other boy wore. He seemed to have expected this to happen. Was that what he meant? Did he somehow arrange for this to happen? It wouldn’t have surprised him.

He felt the other boy's slender fingers close about his wrist. Duo tried to suppress a shudder. It's Heero, he forcibly reminded himself. He was being pulled forward. Without a word he followed, letting his friend lead him were he would.

Behind him he heard shouts and the sound of an explosion. This time he couldn’t see Wing’s face but he was sure of what he would find there; grim determination mixed with dogged satisfaction.

And it seemed that explosions and electrical fires were a common occurrence in the compound. The self-destructing equipment was providing more then enough distraction. No one was paying attention to them as they slipped through the shadows. Before long they had managed to come to the place that was obviously Heero’s intended destination. At first he couldn’t imagine why they had come to a hangar, then he spotted something that made his spirit’s rise immeasurably. There was Deathscythe, wires running to and from the magnificent machine as though it were Frankenstein’s monster. If he could just get to it.

He would have leapt out of the shadow of the door way and raced towards his beloved mech if it hadn’t been for Heero’s grip of his wrist. With that hold alone he was effectively restraining the American. "Eh?"

Heero put a finger to his lips then gestured vaguely to the area before them. Between them and the mobile suit was a squad of armed soldiers. They seemed to be waiting...for them?

Duo’s mind refused to work. It’s hopeless, was the only thing he could come up with. Fortunately Heero didn’t feel the same way. Instead he lead Duo over to the cover of some packing crates. "Here," he pressed a pistol into Duo’s limp hands. "Just wait for my signal."

Signal? But before Duo could even form the question in his mind the other boy was already moving. Peering over the top of the crate he was hiding behind, he watched as the Japanese pilot calmly walked towards the soldiers. At first none of them seemed to be concerned though a couple of them did keep an eye on his approach.

Duo held his breath.

One of the soldiers must have seen something. Suddenly a rifle was being levelled at Heero. But the Perfect Soldier wasn’t fazed by this turn of events. He simply dropped and rolled on his shoulder. When he came up nimbly on his toes he had a sidearm in each hand and was firing with abandon. And he was fast...Heero was constantly moving, never staying in one place for more then a fraction of a heart beat.

Duo watched, amazed as the soldiers began to fall before the one-man army they faced. A morbid fascination swept over him. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the other fight outside of his gundam but it did serve to confirm what he had already suspected. Heero seemed to be most alive when he was fighting. There was a glint, a hunger in his eyes that was never there at any other time.

As Duo watched the Wing pilot, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking up at the balcony he saw a man standing there, taking aim with the rifle he held.

No!

Duo just reacted. Taking the gun Heero had pressed on him he sighted on the OZ soldier and let fly. A perfect head shot. The man fell without a sound. But the racket of his firing the shot caused Heero to glance his way...and open himself to the five men that he still faced. Instinct took over and Duo re-sighted on those that confronted his partner. Reflexively he began to pull the trigger. But as soon his shots took down one of the soldiers, the other four dove for cover.

Heero’s gaze passed over his fleetingly as he focused once more on those between him and the mobile suit. And the Perfect Soldier launched into action once more, totally in his element. But nothing was perfect. One of the guns was shot from his hands and the other one decided that it would be the ideal time to jam. Throwing the useless thing away, Heero dove for the nearest man, grabbing for the rifle he held.

Duo continued to fire on the other three soldiers, doing his best to keep them pinned. One fell, then a second...

Heero had prevailed in his struggle with the soldier who now lay in a boneless heap on the floor. Turning his new won rifle on the remaining man he fired. And with that one shot it was over. There was no one left to fight. Heero shouldered the rifle and hurried to retrieve Duo. The American was carefully making his way out from behind the packing crates.

"Let’s go."

Duo nodded his agreement. He wouldn’t have to be told twice. Swarming up the scaffolding that had been erected about the gundam, Heero was the first in the open cockpit. But instead of sliding into the waiting seat he wedged himself up behind the chair. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position. The cockpits were cramped under the best of circumstances. Duo didn’t say anything, though. At the moment it just seemed very important that they got out of there as fast as possible.

Clambering into the pilot seat, he closed the cockpit and began the power up sequence. Not a moment too soon either. The doors to the hanger were opening as reinforcements poured in. But their little rifles could do very little to Deathscythe’s armoured hide.

Disregarding the scaffolding that was still about the gundam they began to lift off. Turning the Vulcan guns on the main doors he fired, clearing their escape route. Then they were away!

Soaring through the sky they by passed what defences the scattered OZ force had been able to muster. Duo allowed himself a weary smile as they raced through the night sky, quickly leaving the base behind. I’m free.


	3. Vengeance

The chase that followed their flight from the OZ compound had been nothing to write home about. The end result had been that the two boys had gotten away. Duo had landed the gundam safely beyond a small settlement. He had stayed in the mecha while Heero went into town, intent on contacting the others. The cold chill that had come over Shinigami had lingered for a very long time, even after his partner had returned, eyes shining with triumph in that impassive face. It wasn’t something he could explain even if he thought the other boy would understand. Instead he had plastered a big smile on his face and together they had headed for one of Quatre’s holdings.

The other had greeted them as soon as Deathscythe was safely ensconced in the underground hangar. But one look at Duo and they had bundled him off into a bed. The ordeal had left him so exhausted that he had passed out before his head even hit the pillow.

When he had woken the next afternoon he discovered that Heero and Trowa had gone out on a mission. That had been three days ago.

Three...very...long...days...

Duo felt the absence of the Japanese pilot acutely though he couldn’t explain why. There had just been something very comforting in having him near by. Perhaps it was directly linked to the feelings of gratitude he had for the other boy who had freed him.

Also, he missed having the boy’s silent company in the room with him. Always before, whether they were at a safe house or a boarding school or wherever, they had shared sleeping quarters. Things just seemed unnatural without him there typing away on his laptop.

A small part of his mind reasoned that it was nothing to worry about. After all there had been plenty of times when they were separated. But...still.

That first day, in talking to the others, he realized just how little they knew about his incarceration. They seemed to be under the impression that he had been interrogated and tortured, but nothing more. That was fine. So for their benefit he pulled out the large, obnoxious grin and joked idly about this or that, doing his best to seem as if everything was back to normal.

Yet, for him, nothing was normal. This first became evident the following night when he had sought his bed. At first, the dark had bothered him but when sleep had claimed him, he found his dreams were invaded by snarling, hideous creatures with far too familiar voices. Clawed hands grabbed at him and...his mind balked at recalling what had come next.

Duo shook his head as he sat up in the midst of the large queen sized bed. He shivered violently despite that warm sun that was streaming through the window. A feeling of filth seemed to cover him like a thick ooze.

Tossing off the dense down comforter he headed towards the en-suite bathroom. Stripping out of his impossibly cheerful smiley face boxers, he stepped into the shower stall and started the water running. He set the temperature so that it was scalding hot, letting the stream of water wash over him as he closed his eyes. Fervently he prayed that the torrent would scour away the filth that seemed to be so much a part of him.

Though he knew there was no one in the bathroom with him, it felt as though eyes were on him. Without really meaning to, he glanced at the frosted glass of the shower door. The image of a leering man superimposed itself on the glass. The image mouthed the words: You’re mine, slut.

Duo inhaled sharply. Damnit! He was safe, surrounded by his friends and still that bastard had his hooks in him! Rage and fury build within him, both emotions centred on his own helplessness. Weak!

With a guttural cry, he slammed his clenched fist through the bubbled glass. Pain lanced through his hand as the glass came crashing down with a satisfying clatter. He stood there a moment with his hand extended through the remains of the shower door, breathing hard. Wild eyes were set in a face contorted with agony and hysteria.

Then everything seemed to slowly come back into focus. He blinked once..twice...oh, no. Licking his dry lips he looked at the mess he had created. Warm water escaped through the empty space, pattering on the glass shards that littered the floor.

Gathering his wits about him, he turned to the faucet and stopped the flow of water. Then, without bothering to worry about the fragments of glass on the floor he stepped out of the shower stall. The glass bit sharply into his exposed feet, but he welcomed the suffering he was causing himself. He used it to remind him where he was, to shake free of the hold his memories had on him.

Free...I’ll never be free. The defeat in his thoughts was palpable. But...he was Shinigami! He was death incarnate, not a victim!

Yes you are! Weak!

As his mind quickly descended in a downward spiral, he took himself back into the bedroom. He reached under the bed and pulled out the first aid kit that was kept there. Methodically he began tending his abused feet, mindful of the blood and slivers of glass. While he worked, he fought a savage battle with himself.

He was a victim, he realized. He had been made so by others. But as a soldier he couldn’t accept that, couldn’t deal with the loss of control. And the problem worsened, because there was nothing for him to fight back against now. All he had were the painful, far too real memories. The shower stall had been a poor substitute for what he had really wanted to...do...

That was it. He needed closure. It wasn’t enough that Heero had managed to get him out of the OZ facility. It wasn’t enough that the boy’s sabotage had created an undeniable havoc that had facilitated their escape. He, Duo, hadn’t done anything. He had hidden while the other boy did it all.

But that’s what I do, isn’t it? I run and I hide...

That would have to change. If he wanted to truly be free.

His lacerated feet and hand cared for, he stood up from the bed and quickly dressed himself in his accustomed black attire. With his mask of gaiety plastered on his face he left the room and walked down stairs to the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry but he knew that was were he would find Quatre. He had to talk to the Arab.

The blonde boy was standing by the counter, mixing something in a bowl. He was wearing an apron and looked like the picture of domestic life. The Sandrock pilot seemed to be concentrating on the task to the exclusion of all else. "Morning!" Duo called out jauntily from the door.

Quatre looked up and graced him with a welcoming smile. "Barely," he replied. "It’s almost time for lunch. How do you feel?"

It was an guileless question but it set Duo’s nerves on edge. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t let any of them know...most of all innocent little Quatre. Hiding behind a ridiculously wide grin he said, "Fine." The single word was so bright and cheery, the other thought nothing of the response.

"Say, Quatre, do ya got a computer terminal in this place?" He lowered himself in to one of the chairs at the little table.

"Sure. What do you need it for?"

Duo thought fast. He couldn’t tell him the real reason. But...well...sometimes the truth was the best lie of all. "Gotta do some research. Ran into some interesting things back at the that OZ base, ya know." Never mind that the two statements had nothing to do with each other.

"Oh...well maybe you should use Heero’s laptop if your going to be snooping around in OZ stuff," the Arab suggested and he continued to mix the contents of the bowl. "That computer of his has better defences then what I have."

Duo couldn’t help himself, he just stared slack jawed at the other boy. Was Quatre serious? "Dude! I am many things, but I am not suicidal. There’s no way I’m touching anything of Heero’s without his okay! Oi! If he found out I was messing with his laptop, being captured by OZ would look like a church picnic." Maybe.

The Sandrock pilot sighed his agreement with that statement. Heero could be some damn territorial. "There’s a terminal in the study. It’s got an outside connection."

"Thanks!" With that he bounced out of his chair and left the kitchen. Quatre just shook his head wondering were he got his energy from.

As promised there was a computer in the study. But, despite Quatre’s protests, a quick systems check showed that the connection was a secure one.

While he wasn’t a hacker to the same degree that Heero and Wufei were but he wasn’t half bad either. Before long he had found a way into the OZ personnel files for the facility where he had been held. And from there it was just a matter of matching the record photos to his memory...the memory of a tall, leering uniformed man. The worst of many...so many...

Going through the files, he systematically weeded out those who had been there...had tortured...tormented...ra-he couldn’t say it, not even to himself. His mind skipped over the thought as he look at the passive expression on the image before him. He didn’t even take note of the man’s name, his attention was riveted on a single word at the end of the file: Deceased.

The date of death made it four days ago...the time of Heero’s appearance and Duo’s subsequent escape. Leaving that file he began to go through the rest. But each time he came to one he recognized, the word "Deceased" was appended to it. Of course Duo’s tormentors were not the only ones to have suffered that night, but it was only them that he was interested in.

Finally he came an image that was all too familiar. That’s him. Duo’s eyes became very wide and a shiver ran up his spine at the sight of those dead grey eyes.

Of all those who had used him, this one, the first and most persistent of his abusers, was still alive. Violet eyes burned with a cold fire. Memory painted a mocking sneer on that indifferent face. The self loathing that had been a part of him since...the first time...even after the escape, now gave way to a different kind of hatred. A hatred that now had a focus. The Shinigami pilot’s lips curled up into a disgusted snarl.

Carefully he read the file. It listed the man as being on leave currently. Closing down the file and the connection to the OZ mainframe, he sat back in the chair. This could work, he decided.

Focusing on the key board once more he began to type furiously. It was time to call in some favors.

 

###

 

Heero pulled the jeep up into the drive in front of the Winner Manor House. He was exhausted. The mission had been a long drawn out affair where sleep was not a luxury he could afford. Right then all he wanted was he bed. Dusk was falling and he could barely keep his eyes open. Actually he was rather surprised he had not crashed the jeep on his way here. Only his own iron will had kept him from nodding off behind the wheel.

Stepping out of the vehicle, he walked languidly to the front door. His fingers felt quite ungainly as he tried to work the latch. It seemed to take all his concentration to get the thing to work properly. Finally the door eased open silently and he let himself in.

The foyer was brightly lit, making the opulent architecture glisten. Slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, he walked over to the spiral stair case. He didn’t want to deal with the others just then. The need for sleep was the only thing on his mind.

Fate wasn’t about to cooperate.

"Ah...You’re back, Heero." Quatre came walking in from the living room. His expression was bright and cheerful as always. "Did you want some dinner? I can heat up something for you."

"No--"

Anything else the Japanese pilot might have said was cut off by a sudden blur of motion moving through the hall and bursting out the front door. Both Heero and Quatre stared at the door, stunned of the others silent, cold passage.

Duo?

Heero hadn’t missed the murderous expression on the otherwise angelic face. Something was wrong...really wrong. Suddenly sleep didn’t seem all that important. Leaving behind a confused Quatre, Heero also left the manor house.

 

### 

 

In was in what was possibly the seediest part of town that a boy stood, hidden by the thick shadows. Violet eyes swept the area. They missed nothing.

On the side of the street, bathed in the wain light of a street lamp a young man stood, languishing artfully. His coal rimmed eyes and painted lips proclaimed what he was.

A middle aged man approached the young hooker. Hand movements punctuated the exchange. The fellow ogled the younger man hungrily. A satisfied, but cold, smile spread across the hooker’s face. Slowly he lead his newest john around the corner.

Duo glowered at their passing.

It wasn’t him.

For two hours now, he had waited in the depths of the shadows. Now he was beginning to wonder if the intelligence he had been given was wrong. But this particular contact had never let him down before. He could be patient.

That patience was rewarded some fifteen minutes latter. He came sauntering down the street as though he owned it. One hand was clutching possessively at the barely pubescent boy that was trailing in his wake. The child looked both frightened and resigned. Something twisted in Duo’s gut.

Not again. Not that child!

Fury clouded his vision and he almost missed it when the man, pulling the boy along behind him, turned into the entrance of one of many cheap motels in the area. One silent feet the Deathscythe pilot ran across the deserted street and slipped into the motel. But his quarry had already moved on. Behind the admissions desk a balding man sat, staring fixedly at the steamy scenes playing across the screen of his TV.

Duo cleared his throat. The man barely made a move, doing little more then glancing at the newcomer before setting his attention back on the TV. Duo fished something out of his pocket and slid it across the counter top. "A man and a boy," he stated flatly.

The balding man glanced at what the young man partially concealed beneath his hand. The man licked his lips. A gnarled hand reached out and took the fifty dollar bill. Slipping his prize into the back pocket of his pants he gazed blankly and Duo.

"Third floor, room 316," was the response.

Leaving the man to his porn flick Duo took himself over to the stairs. With inaudible steps he ascended the filthy flight of stairs. His nose winkled at odours best left undefined.

On the third floor he had to find his way by feel. The bare bulb that should have illuminated the hallway was nowhere to be found, having been smashed or stolen long ago. Snippets of sound flowed to his ears. It was quite obvious what was going on behind those closed doors. It was just as obvious that much of it would not be classified as consensual.

Squinting at the fourth door he found, he read the cheap gold numbers: 316. This was it.

Unsurprisingly it was locked. Not that that presented a problem. Picking locks was an old trick for him. Nothing to it. There was a barely audible click and the knob turned for him. He slipped into the room. He might as well have been a ghost for all the noise he made.

A pained whimpering sound came from within the room. There, on the far side of the room. The man was hunched over the bed. Duo could only see the legs that were hanging off the side of the bed, that and those hideous sounds were the only clues of where the boy was.

Pulling the hand gun out of the waist band of his pants he pushed the door closed behind him. The motion was unnoticed. Chambering a round into the hand gun, he levelled it at the man.

Hearing the loading action behind him, the OZ soldier stiffened. Turning to look over his shoulder, fury at having been interrupted in his murderous eye, he was shocked speechless. A boy was holding a gun on him!?

"Get up," the boy rasped.

Though the soldier showed no sign of fear, he slowly complied with the order. When he was on his feet Duo shifted his position so that he no longer blocked the door. Keeping the gun trained on the man, his eyes never leaving him, he spoke to the trembling boy who was still on the bed.

"Go. Get out."

The boy didn’t seem to know what to do. He turned frightened eyes on the man and then the stranger holding the gun. Slowly he sat up and began to pull on the dishevelled clothing that had been all but ripped from him. With his head bowed and his eyes careful not to look at either of them, he scuttled out of the room like a frightened rabbit.

Bastard! How many?! How many have you used?!

At the soft click of the door Duo began advancing on the man. Before the OZ soldier knew what he was about, the American pilot brought the butt of the pistol down hard against the side of the man’s head. He crumpled to the floor soundlessly.

 

###

 

When he came to, the soldier felt horribly out of sorts. At first he couldn’t put his finger on it. But when he tried to shift his position and couldn’t, he understood. Someone had trussed him up. Eyes flew open as memory flooded back. The boy.

Turning his head, for that was all he could manage, he tried to locate his attacker in the dimly lit room. There. The boy was sitting in a wooden chair that had been pushed up against the wall. The soldier had had plans for that chair...

The boy saw him and their gazes met. Those violet eyes were cold and hard. An intense hatred burned behind those cool depths. The boy was no longer holding the gun, and the soldier noted a suspicious bulge in the waist of his slacks. Rising to his feet, to boy padded across the floor soundlessly. Somehow, that was worse than when he stalked over angrily.

As he twisted his wrists in the make shift restraints, he demanded, "Who the fuck are you?!"

The hate filled expression on the boy’s face was cracked by a wide, cold smile that did nothing to touch his eyes. "You don’t remember me," that deep voice rasped. "I’m hurt."

The man’s eyes narrowed. He did remember. It was that arrogant smile that brought it back to him. He leered appreciatively at a memory of wiping that smile off the boy’s face. The man laughed to himself. "My little slut."

That was when Duo lost it. Before, he had known that his sanity was questionable. But with those three words whatever was left of his rational self quickly departed. Raising his arm he backhanded the soldier’s face with the knuckles of his curled fist. That square jaw snapped satisfyingly to the side. However, while the OZ man did wince, he refused to make a sound. As he rolled his head back up right to stare at the young pilot, Duo was struck by a strong feeling of Deja Vu but something was off about it...

Reaching into his pocket, the Shinigami pilot pulled out something long, smooth and dark. Snick! A gleeful grin spread itself across his face as he saw his prisoner go ridged against the restraints. The man tried to move as far away from him and the switchblade he held as the bindings would allow.

"Do you know what you do to those you use?" The violet deeps of Duo’s eyes glinted dangerously. "Do you know what you did to me?"

The man, who had been keeping a careful watch on the knife the boy held, looked at Duo. The fear and the worry vanished from his pinched features as the customary leer took it’s place. "I made you mine! My little slut. And you loved it!"

An inarticulate cry ripped it’s way free from Duo’s throat. Without really thinking about it he brought the blade down in a purposeful arc. The man cried out, more from shock then from pain, as a thin line of red appeared at a slight angle across his chest. Duo gazed at his handiwork as the man whimpered before him, fascinated by the thick red liquid that was beading there.

Galvanized by the man’s reaction, the boy lashed out with the knife again, angling it so that it cut more deeply. This time he was rewarded by a true howl of pain. Something within him snapped and he lost control. He was no longer aware of his arm moving; of his victim's shouts. All his mind could focus on was: freedom. Now he had the power, he was the one who was in control. And he wasn’t going to stop there.

When the OZ soldier was nothing but a writhing latticework of red slashes. Duo stepped back to admire the result. His blood surged white hot through his body as a heady feeling of power swept over him. Oh yes...he would make this man pay...

With cruel force he grabbed the man’s limp member. Red rimmed eyes cracked open and focused on the young pilot. The fear in those cold grey depths was palpable as he watched the boy raise the knife yet again.

An hoarse, wordless cry of agony echoed through the room and out into the hall beyond.

Duo’s eyes were glued to the sight of the bloody stump even as he tossed aside the offending piece of flesh. Soon the sounds the man was making died down in amplitude, most likely because his throat had become ripped. A part of him was quite gratified that his tormentor had been reduced to pathetic mewls of pain filled misery. An other part of the Shinigami pilot was disgusted that he could do this to another human being, regardless of the provocation. But that little voice of reason was quickly conquered as the boy remembered...oh yes, how he remembered. The leering face from that horrid time superimposed itself on the form that lay on the bed.

A guttural snarl ripped it’s way from Duo’s throat as he dropped the knife and instead began pounding the other with the biting knuckles of his fists.

No more! I’m not your VICTIM!

When he finally stopped he noted that the OZ soldier was breathing shallowly. Had he managed to break his ribs, and perhaps puncture a lung? Or maybe it was just from blood loss? Not that it really mattered. The bastard wouldn’t have to stay alive much longer anyhow. There was just one more thing...

Leaving the bed and its occupant behind, the young man walked over to the night stand where a half empty bottle of cheap whisky sat. He put the bottle to his lips a took a large swallow. The harsh liquid burned it way down his throat and he gagged. But it served the purpose. Duo was able to focus a little more on the here and now.

Taking the bottle with him, he walked back over to the bed. Standing there he looked at the result of his vengeance. But it wasn’t complete, not yet. Nor would it ever be as long as that man was allowed to live. In a painfully deliberate move he extended his arm above the mortally injured man. Slowly he up ended the bottle. With vicious movements he began to slop the contents of the bottle about, making sure that some got on the OZ soldier as well as the bed sheets and carpeting.

When it was empty he threw it away, not caring where it landed. His hand disappeared into his pants pocket once more. What he pulled out this time was no knife. Instead it held something small, its golden surface reflecting the dim light form beyond the window. Flipping the top of the little container, violet eyes watched as a mini flame sprang to life. The corners of his mouth twitched. Long fingers went lax and the little lighter tumbled to the floor.

 

###

 

Heero had been sitting outside the little hotel for almost three hours now. He was doing his best not to fidget as he sat in the jeep. His instincts were telling him that something was very wrong. The first sign that something was happening was the pungent smell in the air.

Smoke?

Then, before he could think of anything else the main door to the hotel exploded outwards. Orange flames licked at the building’s facing, stretching out from the interior. K’so Duo! What have you done?!

Hastily he started up the jeep and sent it lurching forward. Cranking on the steering wheel hard, he pulled it around in a tight u-turn. He was ready to rush into the building and pull out that lame-brained American when it became unnecessary. As the jeep came to a screeching halt before the building's entrance, a dark shadow appeared in the doorway. Back lit by the flames, it was hard to tell who or what was there. The thin figure lurched forward like a puppet.

Though the person had his head down, Heero caught a glimpse of a familiar chestnut braid swaying dejectedly in the slight wind.

Duo. The Wing pilot let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. Popping the passenger side door Heero leaned out. "Need a ride," he asked the other pilot as he neared the jeep.

Duo nodded solemnly. He didn’t look up. Instead he simply climbed in and sat back in the seat as though he as trying to become part of the cheap upholstery. Heero raised one eyebrow but said nothing. With the raging fire behind them they drove back to the estate in silence.


	4. Healing

On the drive home, Heero had fretted, though he remained silent. The normally boisterous Duo hadn't said a word. The silence had been deafening. Nor was anything said when they got back to Quatre's estate. Instead the two boys had simply walked up to their shared room. Duo had fallen into his bed fully clothed, asleep before his head hit the pillow. A soft, whistling snore soon filled the room.

There was nothing left for it. Heero stripped down to his underwear and crawled under the sheets of his bed. Oh god he was tired! But sleep eluded him. Instead he rolled on his side and through the darkness gazed at the American in the other bed. Something was very wrong with his friend. He knew that he had been hurt badly while OZ had held him, but mere physical pain couldn't be enough to have changed him so, could it? As he lay there watching the other pilot his mind skimmed over the memories of the break out. The first thing that occurred to him was to wonder why he hadn't just shot the other pilot. It was a question he had been wrestling with for the past three days. It didn't make sense.

You didn't shoot him because you never waste a resource. Duo is a good pilot and he still has a job to do. It was a good argument but he knew that there was another reason, one that continually eluded his grasp.

Duo tossed fitfully in his sleep. For a moment the American faced Heero and he couldn't miss the pinched and pained look on that otherwise angelic face. That queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified.

Then it started.

Duo had rolled on his side again. At first he didn't move. That was when the sound permeated the air. At first it was soft whimpers, the kind a distressed cat would make. But they quickly in intensity. That anguished sound grated on Heero's ears. He couldn't stand it. Whatever Duo was dreaming...it was hurting him.

Tossing off the blanket of his own bed Heero placed his feet on the hard wood floor. The cold boards sent a shiver up his spine. Duo cried out again and a second shiver ran through the Japanese pilot. Silently he padded over to the other boy's bed. He carefully lowered himself onto the corner of the mattress but then he just sat there, unsure of how to proceed. Duo must have sensed his presence because the boy rolled over and gazed at the Perfect Soldier.

"I'm sorry...Heero...I failed...weak...so weak...I failed..."

Though the American's eyes were directed at him they were glazed and saw nothing at all. He's still asleep, Heero realized. Duo stopped speaking and turned over onto his back. He had long since kicked off the blanket and lay there, black in a sea of white. Hesitantly Heero reached out a hand, then stopped himself before he could touch him. He couldn't explain the sudden need to touch the other boy, to smooth away to frown that creased that beautiful face.

I...I want...to. To what?

Shaking his head Heero rose from the others bed. Bending down he retrieved the discarded blanket. Clutching the dark blue swath of cloth he turned back to his comrade. Duo had started fretting in his sleep again. Trying not to disturb the restless boy Heero carefully laid the blanket over Duo. But as soon as the fabric touched the boy...the world exploded.

A fist connected with Heero's jaw sending sprawling on the floor. Stunned Heero looked up to see Duo rising form the mattress something clutched tightly in his right hand. He didn't have time to identify the item before the American launched himself at the other boy, his face contorted in a snarl of rage. Hastily Heero tried to back out of range. Duo swung his arm out and Heero identified the large combat knife just before it touched the skin of his chest. Fire lanced across his torso as the knife continued it's sweeping arc. The cut wasn't deep but he could feel little trails of blood beginning to flow. He lunged backwards in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the other boy. His breath caught in his throat as he felt himself brush up against the wall.

There was no time for anything. As it was he barely managed to roll out of the way as the American pounced on the spot where he had been, the knife poised before him. But his hasty movement had a price, his ankle twisted painfully and he collapsed to his right knee.

The force of Duo slamming into his exposed back sent him sprawling against the floor. His cheek grated painfully on the floor boards. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, turning him over. Dazed he looked up to see Duo straddling him, knife raised, ready to plunge it home into his chest. But it wasn't the knife he feared. The look on the other pilot's face made him go cold. Rage, fury and homicidal intent accumulate into a dark sickening whole. But those eyes...

He isn't awake. He doesn't know who I am.

Working on reflex Heero grabbed the boy's wrist as the knife was brought down towards him. He never would have imagined that Duo could be so strong! Just the same though, he was Heero Yay, Perfect Soldier. His hands halted the knife's descent and he tried to pull it above his head, stretching out Duo's frame slightly. Twisting his hips, throwing his weight to the side, he upset the other boy's balance. Taking advantage to the fact, Heero flipped the Shinigami pilot on his back, their positions quickly became reversed though he took care to maintain his balance, refusing to fall victim to the same move he had just used on Duo.

Once the American was pinned beneath him the dark emotions that had distorted his face were quickly replaced by a look of abject fear. The transition was so sudden that Heero relented a little. But as soon as the other boy started thrashing about he remembered the knife. Grabbing Duo's wrists he slammed the hand against the floor with enough force to make his teeth rattle. When the boy didn't release the knife right away he quickly brought up the offending hand and crashed it down again. This time the knife was sent skittering across the floor.

With the knife lost the boy under him seemed to shrink into himself. A tiny whimper issued from those tightly pressed lips.

"Duo!"

The boy didn't seem to have heard him.

"Duo! Wake up!"

Again, no response. Flustered and unsure of what to do next Heero released on of the boys hands...brought his hand back...

Slap!

Duo's head snapped to the side under the blow. And he left his head there as he blinked dazedly. Reaching out a hand Heero gently turned the other boy's head so that he had to look at him. "Duo?"

Violet eyes fixed on him. Recognition flash through those starling clear orbs. Then the angelic face contorted with fear/pain mixed with betrayal. Finally, the boy's eyes dropped down. In the dim light coming from the window he saw the thin red line that marred Heero's flesh. "You're hurt?!"

Releasing the other boy, Heero slipped off and folded his legs beneath him as he regarded the American. He shrugged. "I..." Remembrance flooded Duo's mind. A keening wail split the air as Duo curled in on himself. Eyes squeezed shut he began to shake.

Heero was shocked! This was not the response he had expected. Granted he hadn't expected any of the events that had transpired this night...but, well...Suddenly his mind crystallized. Without realizing that he had done so the Wing pilot scooted closer and gathered the shaking form to him. As he sat there cradling the boy, he began to rock slowly. A hand began to stroke the sweat damp hair.

Slowly the cries died down to whimpers and then even those became silent. But the shaking didn't stop. Ever so carefully Heero picked up the other boy and carried him back over to the bed. With infinite care he set the other down. But instead of leaving him Heero curled up beside him, trying to keep as much contact between them as possible. His instincts were telling him that this was important. And those feelings were so few and far between that he didn't dare ignore them.

For a while the two of them just sat in silence, Duo resting awkwardly in Heero's arms. "What happened," the Japanese boy asked finally, breaking the silence.

"I..." Nothing else would come out.

"It has something to do with the time you spent as an OZ prisoner." It was a statement, not a question. Duo hung his head but Heero felt it as he slowly nodded once. "Tell me about it?"

"I..." Again Duo was at a loss for words. Nothing seemed right. It took everything he had to screw up the courage to face that simple question. Finally, "They hurt me...He hurt me." That was the beginning of the torrent. Now that he had started he couldn't stop himself. "I thought killing him would make the pain go away. But it didn't. I just want it to stop. I just want to forget!

"But I can't...all I see is him. I thought you where him. And I couldn't take it. I wasn't going to let it happen again. Never again! I'd die first. But at the OZ base...I couldn't. I couldn't get out...there was no way for me to escape. And I couldn't kill myself. They saw to that. And I failed! I failed in the worst way! I was weak. So fucking weak!"

At some point he realized what Duo wasn't saying. Though understanding became clear, Heero said nothing as his partner railed on waxing about the past, bouncing from despair to self-loathing and back again. There was nothing he could do, he wasn't even sure if he should try...but he couldn't stand to see the other boy like this.

"He," he said finally, "the man in the hotel."

Duo started within Heero's arms. How much had the Wing pilot seen? At least some of it surely. After all he had been there to pick him up when he came walking out of the building he had set ablaze. But there was no point in denying it. Slowly he nodded against the other boy's chest.

"Duo," he said hesitantly, unsure of who to handle this. "You aren't weak. And you didn't fail." Then he was quiet as he waited for the words to sink in.

"But... I--"

Heero quelled the protest by hugging Duo tighter to him. He didn't miss the fact that his friend stiffened in his arms. Slowly though, as Hero stroked the back of Duo's head, he began to relax, melting into the embrace.

"You did your best. No one can say otherwise."

Should I confront Duo? Should I make him face what happened? Or would that only make things worse?

But as he regarded the quivering body in his arms he realized that very little could be worse about this situation. "He raped you."

There, he'd said it. So he waited for a reaction. That reaction took the form of a tremor of fear running through the other boy. "He used you and he victimized you. He did it. Not you. The choice wasn't yours." Again he waited but nothing changed. "It wasn't your fault." That statement echoed in the quiet room.

"How can you be sure?" Duo asked meekly.

"Because...I know you. It wasn't your fault." Daringly he leaned down and kissed the boy's bang covered forehead. "Get some sleep," Heero whispered as he arranged himself against the head board. And surprisingly enough, with Heero's arms still wrapped around him, the Shinigami pilot proceeded to do just that.

 

###

 

Though Duo slept, it was fitful. Heero was roused from his doze by the sound of Duo mewling in his sleep. He's dreaming again. Heero watched the other boy, the American's face drawn with obvious distress. No, a nightmare, he amended.

At first he tried speaking gently to the other boy. When that got no response he gave the boy a shake. Mindful of what happened last time he had tried to rouse the braided young man, he was ready to pin his arms if such was necessary.

It wasn't.

Duo's eyes flew open at the sudden movement, terror clouded those violet depths. Then he focused on Heero. The fear receded, though it didn't disappear all together, and a small smile twitched at his lips. With a long sigh he sank further into Heero's embrace.

"What was it," Heero asked quietly into the silence though he had a pretty good idea of his own.

Duo turn his eyes down, not wanting the other boy to see pain that question brought up. "Nothing...nothing I couldn't handle," came the subdued response.

Bullshit! Heero thought. But saying that to the American would only make him pull back into himself. That wasn't what the Wing pilot wanted. Instead he said, "It was him." He felt it as that simple statement rocked Duo to the core.

Slowly, trying not to jostle the other boy, Heero loosened his hold and sat up. Confused Duo lay on the bed, wondering what he had done wrong. Quiet cobalt eyes were on him, but he didn't feel worried or uncomfortable, the gaze wasn't menacing or impassive, just...quite.

"Do you trust me?"

Duo blinked. What? Why would Heero ask that?

"Of course I do," he answered automatically, surprise making him louder then he had intended. "Why do you--"

"Close your eyes."

Still confused Duo did as he was told as he lay on the mattress before the other boy. A feather light touch brushed against his cheek. "H...Heero?" The Perfect Soldier didn't respond, not with words. Whatever had been touching the boy's cheek vanished. But before Duo could wonder about it another very soft touch brushed against his lips. Somehow this touch was softer. Heero's kissing me? At first his brain couldn't comprehend it so he didn't react. Then he felt it, Heero's tongue delicately traced the line of his bottom lip. It wasn't a hungry touch and it demanded nothing but all the same Duo's eyes flew open.

Heero noticed his reaction and pulled back a little, endless blue eyes resting on him. "Heero? What are--" The Japanese pilot placed a single finger against Duo's lips. Surprise, more then the finger, silenced him.

"I want to show you something," the Wing pilot began. Again he bent forward, this time lightly kissing the braided boy's forehead. When he had puled away again he continued, "I want you to know what pleasure is like. I want you to forget the pain."

Duo was stricken. It felt as if he couldn't breathe! Before he had been captured he had toyed with the notion of approaching the beautiful Perfect Soldier but had never had the nerve. Now...

I can't do this! I can't, his mind wailed. At the same time a more rational thought appeared. This is Heero. I'm safe with him. If anyone could be safe with the Perfect Soldier...

Heero seemed to understand the internal conflict within him. "I won't hurt you Duo. Just...Trust me..."

Duo was still terrified. "Y...yes." What else could he say?

Heero removed his finger from the other boy's lips and reached up to lightly brush his palm over Duo's eyes. "Close your eyes," he said again.

As before, he did as he was told. Then he went rigid as he felt those velvet lips kissing the line of his jaw. Duo sucked in a quick breath as those questing lips reached the hollow below his right ear. Then the oh so gentle caress passed over his ear, he shivered as Heero breathed lightly against it. "I won't hurt you," came the words again. Duo realized that he was tensing against Heero's administrations and tried to force himself to relax. He was only partially successful.

As Heero continued to nibble enticingly at his neck, a pair of deft hands began unbuttoning his black shirt. As small part of his mind screamed with incoherent fear. It was happening again! No...it was Heero. Heero wouldn't hurt me! Not like that!

Then the shirt was open. The Japanese pilot's mouth never stopped even as he began the task of opening the white undershirt. He felt it when that one, too, was opened and a slight draft brushed across his chest. Gentle hands were leisurely tracing the line of his shoulders. Duo arched his back reflexively as the warmth of Heero's mouth encompassed his left nipple. With his mouth open and gasping Duo clenched his eyes tightly shut, feeling as though he was drowning in the marvellous sensation. Those deft hands were moving again, gliding down his torso. His abs contracted spasmodically and he was sent gasping once more.

When Heero's hands encountered the waist band of the braided boy's pants he made quick work of the clasp. Long fingers slipped in past the white boxers and began stroking the boy's semi-erect member. Duo bucked under the touch, going rigid once more. The hand continued its ministrations as those pliant lips claimed his mouth once more. He felt those lips trying to part his own, that tongue asking for entrance. Almost reluctantly Duo opened his mouth just a little. Heero took advantage of Duo's offering. Slowly, tenderly, he let his tongue explore the others mouth. And he was rewarded by the feeling of the braided boy relaxing into the mattress beneath him. With practised strokes he claimed Duo's manhood, feeling it lengthen under his touch.

Duo moaned soundlessly into the other pilot's mouth. It felt like his body was on fire, like he would burst from the sweet pressure that was building in his body. Then he felt the hand leave him and move around to his hips. With gentle urgency he felt his boxers being removed. Once more his mind screamed in abject terror as memories collided with reality. But the movement was so sensuous. And he lifted his hips slightly to aid Heero in his task.

Slowly the fabric was pulled down the length of his long legs. But Heero didn't stop at the feet, instead he removed the offending garments completely.

Duo was left to wonder what the other boy was doing as he didn't immediately feel his touch again. But before he could begin to fret his keen ear picked up a single, hushed word. "Beautiful." Duo's mind started gibbering senselessly as it tried to discern of what he had just heard. He...He wants me? The concept both alarmed and enticed him.

Then he felt those marvellous hands on the inside of his thighs...stroking...teasing. Duo couldn't stand it! He began to squirm, trying to get those hand to touch him were he needed it so badly. Then they disappeared. Duo whimpered his disappointment, but he didn't dare say anything.

There was motion to either side of his hips and he felt the mattress dip. As he realized that Heero had shifted his weight and a wet succulent warmth enveloped him. Eyes that had been shut flew open though he could focus on nothing. His hips jerks upwards almost of their own volition, seeking more of that wonderful mouth, before falling back to the mattress. "Uhhhn!"

The throaty groan drove Heero on, dipping his head, taking Duo all the way into his mouth. With slow, unhurried strokes, his tongue played along his length, eliciting even more sound from the writhing American. But Duo wasn't about to wait. Soon those slender hips jerked up again, as a desperate need to quicken the pace drove him on.

Taking the hint, Heero sucked harder, gently raking his teeth against the cock within his mouth as he complied with the boy's silent demand.

Duo became breathless as his shuddering body was rocked with sensation. He was so close! He could feel his member twitching, readying for release. Did Heero mean to...

With a hoarse cry Duo exploded. His seed shot into the others mouth. He was barely aware of it as Heero greedily gulped it all down.

Almost reluctantly Heero allowed the flaccid member pull free of his mouth as Duo collapsed back against the bed. Then he crawled up the other's body and soundly kissed him, darting his tongue into Duo's mouth so that he could taste himself. This time Duo began to kiss him back! Heero's arms snaked around him and with tongues warring they remained that way until they had to break apart for the simple act of breathing.

Awestruck Duo eyed his partner...his friend...his lover?

Then confusion took the place of rapture that had clouded his mind. For Heero was settling down into the bed, though he still held him, as though he would end it there. But...Doesn't he..? He must want to...

"Heero? Don't you..." He faltered. It was hard to find the words.

"Yes," came the honest answer. "But I won't. When you're ready and not before. I'll wait." Those cobalt blue eyes were dark with need and Duo knew that the perfect soldier would suffer in silence in order to spare him. But...Heero was wrong. He wanted to him to continue. No he needed him to.

"Please Heero...please...I..." He swallowed hard, trying to force the words out. "Take me. Please?" But when the Wing pilot didn't respond a small sob escaped him. "All I can see is him," he cried. "And I can't take it any more. Please. I want you. I need you. Make me forget! Please...make me forget..."

Then Heero was kissing him again, gently suckling away the tears that had begun to flow down his cheeks. "Shhh." The short haired boy shifted again and deftly lay him back on the bed. Then he rose and crossed their shared room. Duo watched him as best he could without moving. He watched as the other boy dug through the small chest of drawers he had claimed as his own. He must have found what he was after because he closed the thing up and came back to Duo's side.

That hungry mouth swamped his own, and Duo reached up to embrace his lover. Heero allowed him to do so and he wished fervently that it would never end. Then he jumped as something brushed up against his tight ring of muscle. Fear clashed with desire. He did want Heero inside of him and he forced himself to relax.

Gentle, lube slicked fingers worked at the surrounding area...waiting...teasing. Again Duo bucked as one of those questing fingers slid into him. But Heero, ever the Perfect Soldier, pursued his mission. Then Duo's world shattered as he found the spot. That specific little button that made him forget everything else. Duo thrashed helplessly as his entire system was over loaded with pleasure. He barely even noticed when a second finger joined the first. Together the intruding digits took him to new heights of ecstasy.

A third finger was added and Duo could feel his muscles being spread as Heero prepared him for what was to come next. Then the fingers withdrew. Duo whimpered it himself. His eyes closed in rapture. Heero...please...

He didn't have to wait long. The bed moved as Heero straightened and there was a swishing of fabric. Hands curled around his thighs, lifting them up so that they rested against the other boy's shoulders. He felt it when the tip of Heero's erection came to rest against his hole. Relax, he counselled himself. But even though he knew what he had to do, it was next to impossible. Then Heero was above him, slowly pushing his way in. Duo arched away from the intrusion as pain, both real and remembered, lanced through his being. Eyes flew open wide as he gritted his teeth. Then the other boy stilled within, letting him adjust to the sensation. Eventually the pain subsided.

When Heero felt the other boy begin to relax he bean working his hips, slowly pumping in and out of that lithe body. With each thrust Duo shook under him as he hit his prostate. Pain was quickly replaced by euphoria. And the Shinigami pilot moaned out Heero's name. His breath was becoming ragged as his lover quickened his pace. A guttural cry ripped its way free of his throat but it was a sound of purest joy.

Firm fingers kneaded his pale buttocks. There was a quick intake of breath and then Heero groaned low in his throat. Once, twice Heero thrust hard into him, almost desperately. Duo felt it as the other boy's seed spilled into him. Heero...thank you. That was all the thought his enraptured mind could manage.

They stayed there for a moment, Duo languishing with the feel of the other boy inside of him. Then Heero pulled out.

When he was free of that sensuous cavern, Heero stood up, gazing down as the form of the braided boy who had such a blissful expression on his face. In a gesture of true tenderness he hadn't known he was capable of, Heero grasped the covers of the bed and carefully pulled them from beneath the other boy. He then slipped in next to Duo and covered them both. Entwining his arms about the other, he kissed Duo's forehead and whispered into his hair. "Get some sleep. I'll still be here in the morning."

Wrapped in that warm embrace Duo did just that. And this time the dreams stayed away. For the first time in far to long he experienced a peaceful slumber.

 

###

 

It was mid-morning and the breakfast he had made was almost ready. But there was no sign of Heero or Duo. So Quatre left the kitchen, ignoring Wufei's complaint that he should hurry up, and climbed the stairs to the third floor where the pilots' shared room was.

Being the polite, well bred young man that he was, the young heir rapped lightly on the wood of the door. Then he waited. But there was nothing. He couldn't even hear any sound coming from the room. What was going on in there? Surely they weren't still asleep.

Cautiously he opened the door. "Hey guys! Breakfast is almost- Eeep!"

Startled blue eyes fell on the tableau of the two boys resting in the bed cuddled together. Duo was still blissfully asleep, snuggled up against his bed mate, his hair having come loose at some point in the night. But Heero was awake. The Japanese boy had his arm about the other's shoulders. With his free hand Heero raised one extended finger to his lips in a shushing motion. Even more surprising than the gesture was the sparkle in those ordinarily cold eyes.

Quatre felt his cheeks beginning to burn. "Uh, sorry," he said lamely as he quickly ducked back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Leaving the room behind he began to walk back towards the kitchen. Trowa found him on the stairs and put a strong arm about his little lover. "Where are Heero and Duo?" he wanted to know.

"I don't think they'll be joining us this morning," the Arab replied, a little distracted. "Come on. We should get our breakfast." With Trowa's arm still wrapped about his slender waist they descended the stairs together.

Quatre found himself thinking on the heavenly expression on the American's face. Good, I'm so glad they found each other, he thought to himself. Now maybe Duo's shattered soul can begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I posted this here on AO3, I read through it for the first time in almost a decade. And I winced at some of the glaring holes, not to mention perspective changes..and the euphemisms (shudder). Maybe some time in the future I'll see about fixing it, but for now my editing is limited to typos and such.
> 
> As for the healing sex trope....my only defence is that I was young and a blithering idiot.


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